7 de setembro de 2010

(get me out of here)





a heart that's full up like a landfill,
a job that slowly kills you,
bruises that won't heal.
You look so tired-unhappy,
bring down the government,
they don't, they don't speak for us.
I'll take a quiet life,
a handshake of carbon monoxide, with no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises,
silent, silence

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